


checking in

by pinkish



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Character Study, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Non-Monogamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 22:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkish/pseuds/pinkish
Summary: Sid checks in -- and checks in with himself about how he's been handling his relationship with Claude.It takes place just before and six months after "Reservations"





	checking in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vaguelyfamiliar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelyfamiliar/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Reservation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17759417) by [vaguelyfamiliar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelyfamiliar/pseuds/vaguelyfamiliar). 
  * Inspired by [Reservation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17759417) by [vaguelyfamiliar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelyfamiliar/pseuds/vaguelyfamiliar). 



> Thank you to vaguelyfamiliar for writing the kind of queer love story that I enjoy so much. I don't know Claude as well as I know Sid, so I've inhabited Sid's mind here, but I hope I did justice to your Claude (and to Rhonda, whom I love with all my heart).

“Hello, Rhonda,” Sid says as he drops his small carry-on to the ground. He meets her eyes briefly and smiles at her when she looks up at him. She’s always doing that thing where you can tell someone is trying not to laugh – her eyes crinkle a bit and she purses her lips to keep the grin at bay. Sid has long since decided that she’s not laughing at _him_ , but at the little dance she’s about to witness.

He wonders sometimes if this is one of her favourite entertainments.

“Hello, Sidney. Checking in for Giroux?” She asks even as she types in the information needed for him to get a key to the room. “Same room as last time. Hope it’s lucky.” She winks – outrageously – and Sid rolls his eyes at the innuendo, even if it makes him laugh just a little.

He reaches for the key, but she doesn’t let go when he starts to pull it towards him.

“I know it’s not my business,” Rhonda says, cocking her head a little to peer at Sidney, “but you two don’t have wedding rings, and, frankly, you don’t seem like the homewrecker type.”

Sidney is about to ask what that type looks like, but she senses the interruption coming and waves her other hand dismissively.

“I work the night shift at a hotel small enough that there’s just one person at reception. I’ve developed what they call _a sense_ for things. You two don’t feel guilty, just private.”

Sid nods, though he isn’t sure what he’s agreeing with – her assessment of his emotional state or her claim that she has a spidey sense for cheaters.

She hasn’t let go of the key, and he hasn’t tried to pry it from her, so she continues, “Why don’t you come in together? Leave together?”

“This is going to sound, uh, conceited, but...do you," he pauses, willing the words to come out, "know who we are?” Sid’s heart jumps a bit in his chest – neither he nor Claude have been particularly sneaky when it comes to making these reservations, and if Rhonda was going to sell the story, she’d have done it by now...but years of hiding makes even this admission fraught.

“A bit – I think you’re important hockey people or something,” another dismissive hand-wave, and this time she lets go of the key, “One of my sister’s kids is a big fan, but it’s not really my sport.”

He waits for Rhonda to ask for an autograph, or something, but she just sits there, waiting.

“I don’t know if we’re ready to be, you know,” he grimaces and looks away, “ _public_ about it all.”

“Hmm,” Rhonda nods, sympathetically, but Sid can feel her gaze sharpen, so he says what he wanted to say at first:

“I don’t know if, um, we’re – _he’s_ – ready for it to be more real than this.”

Sidney’s not sure why he’s telling her this.

Rhonda has been a friendly face for years, and they’ve chatted about things like nieces and grandnephews, rude neighbours, and whether Sidney should get “a Twitter,” but it’s all been small conversations they could share in the moments between typing things in and exchanging keys. Rhonda must sense Sidney’s discomfort, because she pats his hand, still on the counter from when he tried to grab the key, and smiles at him.

“Sometimes people need a little push.”

This time, it’s Sidney who purses his lips. Rhonda _definitely_ doesn’t watch hockey if she thinks pushing Claude Giroux is a good idea.

When Sid gets to the room, he flops onto the bed and pulls out a book Sully recommended. Unlike other nights, though, when a book is a good way to distract himself from the fuzzy feeling of anticipation, waiting for the snick of the lock that signals Claude’s arrival, he just can’t focus. He keeps re-reading the same page over and over again, so he puts it down and closes his eyes.

Claude doesn’t need a push – Claude will do what Claude will do, and that’s one of the things Sid likes most about him. He’s brash and cocky, and if he sometimes does things a little _too_ fearlessly, well, that’s one of the consequences of going after what you want.

Sid sighs and pulls out his phone, wondering who he could text to get advice about this who wouldn’t push him for more details. He scrolls through his contacts for a good few minutes before groaning and putting his phone on top of the discarded book. All of his closest friends are busybodies.

Except for Claude, who has always respected Sid’s silences, who has also always paid attention when Sid talks (and talks and talks; sometimes Sid drives _himself_ nuts). But it’s a little hard to text Claude about this.

_I just realized that I should tell you that I want us to wake up together and I want to take you home to meet my family and I want to hold your hand outside of this room and I want you to tell me about the people you sleep with and fuck and fall in love with but I don’t know how. I want you to know you feel like home to me and if all you want is this hotel room, I can deal with that, but if you want more I’ll follow you wherever you want to go._

_Thoughts?_

Claude has always respected Sid’s silences, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe, Sid forces himself to think the words clearly, maybe Sid was letting some silences stand in for words he should have been saying.

* * *

 

_Six months later_

“Hello, Rhonda.” Sid smiles as he sets down his small carry-on.

“Hello, Sidney.” Rhonda smiles back, but then her eyes slide past Sidney and land on Claude. “And Mr. Giroux. How are you both today?” She jabs at a few keys as Claude and Sid murmur platitudes about being fine, and she rolls her chair to grab the same key she always gets for them. “Same room as last time. Hope it’s lucky!” She and Claude laugh, even though she says it every time, now.

“Oh it is,” Claude leers and winks as he grabs for Sidney’s butt. This, too, is familiar, so Sid dodges out of the way and lets Rhonda and Claude have their joke.

(Sid’s not quite as superstitious as people think he is, but he _is_ grateful to have this little routine.)

Sid leads the way up to their room and opens the door for Claude, smacking his ass once the door is shut behind them.

“Hey!” Claude’s outrage is obviously fake, and they enjoy manhandling each other to the bed. Sid ends up leaning over Claude, and he can’t resist lowering his head for a kiss before dropping on the bed next to Claude.

What happens next is quickly becoming Sid’s favourite part of their new routine.

Claude grabs Sid’s hand and twines their fingers together as they maneuver themselves into a comfortable position on the bed. Claude still doesn’t like making eye contact at the start, so Sid is curled against Claude’s back, and Claude has their joined hands up near his face. Sid doesn’t mind – it gives him an easy way to let Claude know how much he likes it, and once Claude feels Sid’s erection, it doesn’t take long for him to forget to be nervous.

“Any stories for me?”

“Mhm,” Claude mumbles, almost too quiet for Sid to hear.

Sid waits, and tries not to grind into Claude’s ass too soon, even though the anticipation has already started to make him hard. He takes a breath and nuzzles Claude’s neck.

“I met a girl at a party.”

“Mmm,” Sid opens his mouth to lick at the skin just behind Claude’s ear and is pleased at the breathy hitch he gets in return.

“She had this whole _thing_ going on, I think she called it, ah, like gender-fuck or fuck gender or something.” Claude wriggles to settle himself in the crook of Sid’s hips more firmly and Sid can’t help but push against the muscle. “It was so hot.”

“Yeah?” Sid is paying attention – he remembers every detail, but his brain is so focused on listening and on pulling those little noises out of Claude that there’s no room left for cogent responses.

“She pulled me into a bathroom and kissed me,” Claude pulls their hands down towards his cock, and Sid takes it as his cue to start rubbing. “Then she whispered...” Claude trails off, his body making small movements in time with Sid’s hand. Sid puts his lips near Claude’s ear and whispers, breathy in the way that he knows drives Claude nuts,

“What did she say?”

Claude moans, and lets out the words in a rush “She said she had a cock for me if I wanted it.”

“Fuck,” Sid closes his eyes, picturing the scene, and has to take a moment to get his pants off. He scrambles a bit to find the lube – and makes a mental note to do this part first, next time. Next time, he’ll make a show of it, but this time, they need to be naked, _fast_.

“Off, off,” he hopes Claude understands what he means, and is pleased when he sees that Claude is way ahead of him. He must have gotten naked while Sid was trying to find the lube. They settle back in, but this time Sid’s cock is slick and nestled between Claude’s thighs, and his hand is moving on Claude’s silky skin.

“Did you want it?” Sid asks after a minute or so of exploring each others’ bodies again. “Did you want her cock?” He thinks he got the words out clearly enough for Claude to understand – or maybe Claude knew what he was trying to say, because Claude nods.

“Fuck, yes, I wanted it. I told her I wanted to suck her cock and then let her fuck me with it.”

Now, Sid is thrusting, his hand and his hips moving together. His cock pushes against Claude’s balls, presses against his perineum as Sid’s thumb swipes under the head of Claude’s cock.

“Did you make her come?”

“Yeah,” It’s a whisper now, and Sid can tell that Claude is back in the moment now. He’s got his hands wrapped up with Sid’s directing the speed and grip on his cock. “Fuck, yeah, I sucked her until she told me to bend over, and she fucked me over the bathroom sink. It was so good, Sid. Fuck, more, like that, just a little –” Claude speaks in half-mumbled instructions, stopping once Sid responds and moving on to the next direction. He’s writhing on the bed, and his thighs are tight around Sid’s cock as he comes, and Sid pulls him against his chest and holds him through it.

“She tasted like licorice.” Claude sighs as he turns onto his back, so he can look at Sid without craning his neck. Sid makes a face and Claude laughs. “I know, I know, you hate licorice. But it was so sexy, Sid, you have no idea.”

Sid raises his eyebrows and gestures to his cock, hard, leaking, and bobbing against his stomach. This gets another laugh out of Claude.

“Okay,” Claude says as he pushes himself down the bed, “you have _some_ idea, I guess.” He grins, then wraps his lips around Sid’s cock, while his hands trail down Sid’s sides until they meet his ass. Claude grips, pressing his fingers into Sid’s skin just as his tongue presses against the head of Sid’s cock.

Sid closes his eyes and lets himself focus entirely on the sensation. He almost doesn’t notice when he comes – it happens so naturally, like a crashing wave that was always going to meet the shore. Claude sucks him gently through the aftershocks, until Sid can’t take it anymore and pulls him up.

He falls asleep before he can tell Claude how good he was, but the sight of Claude’s grin – somehow shit-eating and tender all at once (only Claude could be soft and cocky simultaneously) – tells him that this isn’t something he needs to say out loud.


End file.
